K Webster - My Torin

My Torin

Copyright 2017 K. Webster

Cover Design: All By Design

Photo: Adobe Stock

Editor: Emily A. Lawrence, www. lawrenceediting. com

Formatting: Champagne Book Design

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

My Husband,

I breathelicktastetouchsmellfeelneed you.

Your Wife

Wanting to be free.

Wanting to be me.

Trying to make people see.

And accept the real me.

~Scott Lentine~

Im a freak, a misfit, an odd end.

Abandoned and unloved.

But my happiness is so close I can taste it.

Until he shows up.

Gorgeous, expensive, and all man.

Sad brown eyes and a brilliant smile.

And he wants me to go with him.

His intentions are hidden.

His motives are unclear.

Yet, I leave with him because theres no happiness here.

What he promises feels too good to be true

A castle. A fortune. And horses too.

Its too easy.

Nothing in my life has ever been easy.

Whats the catch?

Theres always a catch.

Dear Reader,

A lot of research went into this book. The characters in this story are a perfect blend of my findings during extensive research and hours of watching documentaries, as well as, my own creative spin. One thing I learned while writing this book is that every single person is unique. No two people are the same. And that is the beauty about people. Different is amazing. Embrace those who arent like you, for everyone has something to offer.

I hope you enjoy reading.

K Webster

Freedom Mountain ChurchDecember 25, 1999

P astor Joe drones on about Gods plan. Everything happens for a reason. Life is a series of tests put before you by the Lord. Perhaps five years ago, I wouldve bought into this whole excuse. But I dont. Because its just thatan excuse. A reason to explain away the bad. God isnt watching over us and testing us. Hes playing games with our hearts.

A shriek interrupts the service and several of the church members glance my way. As a deacon and long-time member, certain things are expected of me. And this? This is one of those things I have to take care of. Normally, Id be rising with a sigh brushing past my lips and a heavy heart. This Sunday evening, Im eager.

I want to get away.

Escape.

Show God I dont like his plan and that Ill dictate my own.

I quietly excuse myself and scoot past several women who conveniently sit near me every Sunday. As if Im on the prowl. Maggies only been dead a year. Ill probably never be on the prowl again. Gods plan was to take her. And no matter how much scripture I read, I cant quite understand why.

Another shriek has me quickening my step.

I rush from the sanctuary into the lobby. Im about to head right toward the offices and church nursery when the sound beckons me from my left. Just outside the doors. With a frown of confusion, I stride outside.

Tonight, its snowingfitting that its Christmas Day. For me, its a reminder I need to drive carefully later. Ill have precious cargo in tow. Icy snowflakes hit my face as a gust of wind swirls around me. Since I didnt grab my coat, I shiver in my bright red Christmas vest and white dress shirt. I scan the side of the church and the parking lot thats jam-packed with cars. Most of these people only come once a year. As though the birth of Jesus is a momentous event, but the other three hundred sixty-four days are unimportant. Next Sunday, itll be business as usual with the normal two hundred plus congregation.

The shrieking resumes and I stare dumfounded at the enlarged nativity scene outside the church. Im frozen, as if the chilly air has already gotten to me, and dont budge an inch until I see movement.

A hand.

Tiny and fierce.

Waving.

Go.

The voice in the back of my head sounds so much like Maggies I nearly collapse. My knees quake and my heart aches, but I start forward.

A baby.

Theres a babyreal and alivelying in the manger.

Unbelievable.

I shake away my daze and hurry over to the nativity scene. When I fall to my knees in the snow that now blankets the earth a couple of inches in thickness, my heart threatens to crack wide-open. Inside the manger is a baby shaking uncontrollably from the cold. The infant is swaddled messily in a ratty blanket. A tiny bluish fist waves in the air at me as though the child also wants to know what Gods plan is that led it to being abandoned in the snow in front of a church. A note sits beneath a sandwich bag full of pennies and flutters in the wind.

I tug the note out and read the crudely scrawled writing.

Her name is Casey.

Shes sick.

This is all I have.

Please take care of her because I cant.

Sickness roils in my belly and I almost vomit up the feast we had earlier in the fellowship hall. What kind of sick monster leaves a child like this? Quickly, I pull the baby into my arms to try and warm it. It shakes violently. I jerk up to my feet and rush toward the building, all the while the baby squawking in my arms. As soon as I make it inside, away from the bone-chilling cold, I tug away the blanket to look at the baby properly.

It stops wailing and stares at me.

Pale blue eyes.

Soulful.

Sad.

So much life in a little ones expression.

I swallow down the emotion and the thoughts begging me to claim this infant as my own. If Maggie were here, shed already be on the phone trying to figure out how we can adopt the baby girl. Pain slices through me.

Maggie isnt here.

Maggie is gone.

She was always the stronger half. Without her, Im a ghost of a person. Certainly, not strong enough for this too. I can barely manage what Ive got.

Im sorry, little one. I hug her to me and push through the sanctuary doors. Joe, call nine-one-one. I found a baby.

The baby starts crying again and I refuse to look at her eyes again.

Little Casey.

Shell go to a home. A loving home. With two adoring parents. Babies are adopted every day and shell be no different.

It just wont be by me.

Because I dont have my Maggie.

And without her, this child would never have what she deserves.

She deserves more than abandonment by an unfit mother. She deserves more than a widower whos sick and infected by grief and depression. She deserves lifejust like that which flickered in her eyes.

She deserves more.

And Ill send her back out into the world where someone else can give it to her.